Out of Anonymity
by Shino Doragon
Summary: Harry Potter was a genius. Harry Potter was a prodigy. Harry Potter was perhaps the greatest sorcerer to have ever lived. All of this was true, yet no-one had heard of him. He was constantly ignored in lieu of his famous brother; never to be seen, never to be heard. That is, until his 11th birthday and the subsequent arrival of his Hogwarts letter. Let's get this party started.
1. 0) Prologue

**I wrote this on a whim after reading countless enjoyable (but sadly many abandoned) fanfictions with the same generic plot. I do, however, warn that updates will be few and far between.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, or any of the concepts found within.**

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**Prologue**

In the heart of the welsh countryside stood a manor that was entirely too large for the four people that lived there. One young boy sat alone in the expansive library of said manor, reading books that made him seem much older than his 11 years.

Of course, Harry Potter was no normal 11 year old. He was a wizard, raised by his similarly magical parents along with his younger twin brother, Anthony - the Boy-Who-Lived.

Although, if you asked Harry, you would probably find that raised isn't the correct word. More like 'ignored' or 'shunted aside'. Shame no-one ever did ask Harry about his opinion – or anything, really. Ever since that dreaded night nearly ten years ago, Harry hadn't been worthy of his parent's notice. The Dark Lord Voldemort came to their safe house in Godric's Hollow with intention to kill the two young children that resided there. The parents, James and Lily Potter, had been out for the night - leaving their kids in the 'safe' hands of their good friend and secret keeper, Peter Pettigrew.

However, Peter was secretly a Death Eater – one of Voldemort's minions – and hence betrayed them to his master. All that is known is that Voldemort cast the killing curse at one of the boys, but it bounced off, causing an explosion that led to Voldemort's disappearance (and assumed death) and the house's near-destruction. James and Lily returned home to find the red-haired, brown-eyed child Anthony bawling his eyes out with a glaring red scar in the shape of a V on his cheek, and the black-haired, green-eyed Harry sleeping peacefully with a similar scar – only shaped like a lightning bolt – on his forehead.

Of course, like any loyal light-sided magical would do in such a situation, they called in 'the great Albus Dumbledore', their friend, leader and old headmaster. He detected the signs of a killing curse having been cast, and only being able to see Anthony's scar, assumed it was him to be hit with it. Of course, since the great Albus Dumbledore said this, it must be true. The media lapped it up and the boy's name became known across the magical world before he could even spell it. This is how Anthony Potter came to be hailed the Boy-Who-Lived, perhaps the most renowned child to have ever lived.

But this story is not about Anthony Potter, it is about his unknown, yet much smarter and more powerful older twin Harry. Harry had genius-level intellect and more magical power than even Dumbledore or Voldemort had at his age – but Harry was a loner. Ignored at any social gatherings in favour of his brother, and not allowed to go to muggle primary school because of the danger of the leftover Death Eaters, Harry had no friends - only books for his companions.

And the house-elves that were entirely responsible for his survival so far. Let's not forget about them.

It was even his birthday today – something else he was supposed to share with his twin; something else his twin took completely for himself. For whilst Harry sat alone in the library, reading, his brother had a big party in the main dining hall of the manor. Of course, this happened every year, on every birthday Anthony Potter, the boy-who-lived held a massive party often heralded by the daily prophet as 'the event of the year', and everyone who is anyone would be there.

But they weren't. The forgotten brother of the boy-who-lived did not receive an invite. Harry Potter, his own twin (who lived in the same house as him), wasn't allowed to come.

But he did not care.

If you spoke to Harry, you also wouldn't call him a child. From the commanding aura he exuded to his jaded personality, everything about him screamed 'mature'. Like everyone, Harry Potter was a product of his childhood – or in his case, lack thereof.

Anyway, Harry was engrossed in his book about creating rune clusters – so much so that he didn't hear the tapping on the window at first. Suddenly, a loud pop was heard and a small creature appeared. It looked like a bald child with bat-like ears and eyes the size of tennis balls. It was an elf – a house-elf, to be exact.

"Young master Harry, sir. Your Hogwarts letter is here!" exclaimed the elf excitedly.

"What! Where?" replied Harry, jumping up excitedly, yet in a way that belied his mental age.

"Did young master not hear the tapping on the window?" asked the elf, with an obviously fake innocent expression. Harry blushed.

"I was engrossed in my reading, Flare," mumbled Harry. Nevertheless he went to the window in question, where an owl was not-so-patiently waiting, with a letter attached to it's leg. He pulled off the letter, which was addressed in emerald green ink to _Mr H. Potter, The Library, Potter Manor, Wales. _Harry flipped it over, revealing a seal depicting a badger, a snake, a lion and a raven. He broke the seal and opened the letter, which was written on thick, heavy parchment. It read:

_HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY_

_Headmaster: Albus Dumbledore_

_(Order of Merlin, First Class, Grand Sorc., Chf. Warlock, Supreme Mugwump, International Confed. of Wizards)_

_Dear Mr Potter,_

_We are pleased to inform you that you have a place at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment._

_Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July._

_Yours sincerely,_

_Minerva McGonagall_

_Deputy Headmistress*_

"They await my owl by today. How helpful of them to give me such a long deadline," commented Harry to no-one in particular. Internally, he grinned widely. It was not a hope to finally have friends that made him so jubilant, for he did not care for friends. No, it was the chance to show himself to the world, and to prove that he is the better twin. "Flare, take me to my room."

And with a cracking sound, he was gone, leaving behind the open book that he was reading on the table:

_Wandless Magic for the Wise Wizard_

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***Taken directly from Harry Potter and the Philosopher's Stone**

**Thank you for reading, and rest assured that any future chapters shall be longer in length.**


	2. 1) A Journey and a Few Wild Encounters

**Before I begin, I'll give a big thanks to everyone who followed/favourited this story, and an even bigger thanks to those who reviewed.**

**Some answers:**

**-A few professors may notice.**

**-You'll see for the house. It's not exactly surprising though.**

**-Do rune clusters require a wand?**

**Also, please don't expect regular updates. I don't have a schedule; if I have something worth posting, I'll post it – whether that's a month or a day after the last chapter.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter, or any of the concepts found within.**

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**1) A Journey and a Few Wild Encounters – All We Need Now is a Gym (or 8)**

A train was moving through the English countryside at a relaxed pace. On the front, it read 'Hogwarts Express', and was coloured red and gold, showing the clear bias of the current headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry towards his old house at said school: Gryffindor. Coincidentally, this headmaster was Albus Dumbledore, a man cited by many to be the greatest wizard of the modern age. Many loved him; some hated him. Very few people saw the truth of him: that he's a good man, but just a man like any other, capable of making mistakes – and his mistakes often had greater impact than others' because of the entirely-too-large amount of power he had (both political and magical).

One of such few people was our focal point for this story; a boy like no other; a boy excellent at seeing the truth of things. A boy called Harry Potter. Also referred to (by himself, of course) as the boy-who-apparently-no-one-knew-existed, or, alternatively, the brother-of-the-boy-who-lived.

Damn, Harry hated hyphens. They were the bane of his existence.

Well, not really. That honour would go to his brother, Anthony Potter. Alternatively known as the boy-who-lived by the media and masses, or simply 'the peacock' or 'the boy-who-has-a-hyphenated-nickname' by Harry and his friends. So basically just Harry.

Damn, Harry hated his brother. He was the bane of his existence. In Harry's opinion, Anthony was quite simply an arrogant prick with more fame than he could ever deserve – and more influence than any 11 year old should ever really have. Harry's dislike of his brother was made even worse by the fact that Harry was a prodigy of magic (as far as he knew, anyway – no-one had ever seen him practising), and Anthony was a scrub, yet the latter of the two was the one who had everything. It was infuriating.

Harry looked out of the window of his compartment, and saw many children and teenagers excitedly making their way around the platform, discussing their holidays with friends or trying to catch a glimpse of the famous boy-who-didn't-die.

Harry really didn't think this was difficult, or that in should be such a drawn-out task. He wouldn't be surprised if his brother was a peacock animagus – it would suit him well, what with the pretty face, the showing off and the overall uselessness. This idle thought led Harry onto considering becoming an animagus this year. If someone like his father could do it in fifth year, then surely he could easily do it now? The decision would, however, be a moot point if he couldn't find somewhere to practise his skills away from prying eyes. He quickly added that to the top of his mental to-do list.

Harry sat alone in his compartment for quite a while, lost in thought. Pretty soon, everybody was on the train and it started moving. A harsh glare caused most people who opened the door to turn away immediately, but one blonde boy with what seemed like an entire bottle of hair gel dumped on his head seemed unaffected when he opened the door of the compartment, flanked by what appeared to be two boy-gorillas.

"I'm looking for the boy-who-lived, is it you? My name's Draco Malfoy, by the way," said the boy, in a tone that belied his superiority complex. As soon as he heard the name, Harry smirked. "Think my name's funny, do you? You must be a mudblood!"

"Yeah, I do. And no, I'm not, monsieur dragon of bad faith," deadpanned Harry, still with that insufferable smirk on his face. "If you're looking for a boy-who-lived then you've found one. I also don't understand why you're looking – clearly the three of you are still alive?" Draco looked at Harry with a befuddled expression on his face.

Harry slapped his palm to his face, and then shut the door in Malfoy's face before locking It with a quick, wandless _colloportus_ spell. Malfoy banged on the door for a couple of seconds before getting bored and wandering off.

Harry sat down and sighed. This was going to be a long day.

* * *

Much later, another knock was heard on Harry's door. He lazily waved his hand in the general direction of the door from the position he sat reading, and the door clicked. A sandy-haired boy who looked to be around his age came in.

"Are you Harry Potter?" the boy asked with a distinctly Irish accent. Harry's right eyebrow raised. The boy evidently took this as confirmation, as he continued: "I've got a message from your brother." Harry's right eyebrow fell.

"Well hurry it up then, I am actually busy unlike you," replied Harry, gesturing with his right hand to the book he still held in his left hand. The boy glowered.

"What was that supposed to mean!?"

"Well, you're acting as my brother's errand boy. What kind of person becomes an errand boy for an 11 year old if they have better things to do? As far as I'm concerned, anything else to do would be a better thing to do."

"Are you insulting the boy-who-lived!?"

"Not really, just pointing out that he's a boy. Please can we get to the point now?"

"I came..." started the boy.

"What!?" Harry interrupted, acting startled. This boy seemed like one of his brother's sycophants, so he thought he'd mess with him for a bit.

"...To this compartment..." The boy soldiered on, oblivious.

"Oh." Harry responded, keeping up the act just in case the boy realised.

"...To give you a message." Nope, it seemed that the boy was actually stupid. "Your brother says to stay out of his way."

"What, do I 'cramp his style' or something? Can he not be seen with someone smart, lest people actually start believing that he might have a hint of intelligence?" Harry was highly amused; someone he considered an ant under his shoe didn't want to be seen with him. The Irish fanboy was visibly angered.

"Don't talk about my friend that way! He's probably way smarter than you anyway!"

"What evidence do you have to base that statement off of? I live with him and so can tell you the only thing above average about him is his irksomeness. I'm sitting here, reading a book on advanced magical theory," at this, Harry held up his book (which was entitled _Magic: The Secret Science_), "whilst Anthony is no doubt sitting on his arse being pandered to by hordes of fangirls – and evidently fanboys. Now you tell me: who seems more intelligent?"

"He killed You Know Who, what did you do?"

"He killed who, sorry?" This was Harry's favourite joke. His hate for hyphens extended to ambiguous nicknames in general, so an opportunity to rip into one was always welcome.

"You Know Who. He-who-must-not-be-named."

"What, is his name 'Avada Kedavra' or something?"

"No, the Dark Lord!"

"Well, that would be an appropriate name for a dark lord...oh, do you refer to the one who calls himself 'Lord Flight From Death'? 'Cause I don't see any evidence that he's dead, or that my brother did that."

The boy looked at him blankly. Very blankly. "Aww, come on – does no British wizard but me or that Crouch guy speak another language other than English? Voldemort." The boy shrieked, and quivered in fear. "It's just a name. He's not gonna pop out from behind you and abduct you, before forcing you to have his kids with a spell he invented for the purposes of some weird slash fanfiction!"

The boy stared at Harry as though he was insane.

"What?" Harry asked irritably. The boy held out his hands and backed away slowly. As soon as he was out of the compartment, he quickly shut the door and bolted away. "Well, that was effective. Impromptu experiment 'Intimidation Via Insanity' was a resounding success!" Harry noted aloud. He suddenly realised that he forgot to ask for the boy's name. How impolite. 'Ah, well,' he thought, 'I'll find out at the sorting ceremony anyway.'

The sorting ceremony. That was a good topic. He'd searched through all of the books pertaining to Hogwarts that he could find, with no mention of the sorting ceremony being found beyond that of it's existence. He knew that it wouldn't be any kind of test of magical ability – after all, Dumbledore was a fan of positive discrimination towards muggle-borns, not negative – but that didn't stop him hoping for some sort magical aptitude test in which he could publicly one-up his brother.

The thought of it possibly being a free choice passed through his mind for a moment, before he realised that then there'd be no need whatsoever for secrecy or a ceremony. If he had free choice, Harry thought that he'd probably go for Hufflepuff – after all, no-one suspected the badgers of doing anything. Except spreading TB. But most wizards have probably never heard of that.

On the subject of houses, Harry personally thought that the entire concept of the Slytherin house was ridiculous. It was just another way of controlling the masses: anyone likely to be capable of committing acts that are (as decided by authority) of questionable morality are immediately grouped publicly so that if any such act is committed, they're the prime suspects for the sole reason that they exist. Well, he supposed it wasn't necessarily ridiculous, but the whole thing left a bad taste in his mouth. Like beer.

Firewhiskey is much better.

* * *

Eventually, the train slowed to a stop. And Harry's train of thought stopped flowing off in completely random directions, creating completely convoluted thought patterns. Not really – as if that would ever happen. But the train did stop.

Harry stepped out of his compartment, his now-shrunken book in his pocket. He winced immediately – there were so many children!

Damn, Harry hated crowds. And children. Even worse were crowds _of_ children; it was just his luck that he currently found himself in one. Or, alternatively, it could be that he was going to a school. Some people, of course, would object to Harry not including himself in this group labelled 'children'. Harry, of course, would object to such objections.

And now he had a headache. Great. Just great. He quickly clapped his hands to his ears in a futile attempt to block any more noise from reaching his sensitive eardrums. Why did he subject himself to the tender mercies of the young, again?

Oh yeah, the library. He heard the food was pretty good, too.

Harry watched as all of the other first years followed an obscenely large man, like some deformed pied piper of hamelin that had an accident with HGH. It was probably Rubeus Hagrid, from what he'd overheard his parents telling his brother. He seemed like a nice guy, at least.

Nice guys don't last. Not in this world.

Idle, fleeting thoughts aside, Harry decided he might as well go with the crowd on this one. Conformity was good for some things. SOME things.

The sight of the castle prompted quite a reaction from the crowd. Most of them, anyway. Harry – as usual – couldn't care less; he could also see his brother (surrounded by a group of admirers, of course – amusingly enough, most of them male) looking at his fingernails boredly, and Draco Malfoy appeared fairly unimpressed.

Eventually they reached a lake – he heard an annoying girl whisper that it was called the black lake, but he really didn't care. He couldn't see a reason for the name anyway – the lake was clearly blue, like all large bodies of water. Mind you, he really didn't see where the red sea or the dead sea got their names either.

"No more'n four to a boat!" called Hagrid. Harry scoffed, prompting stares from people nearby. As if they wouldn't have reinforced them with magic. There were scions to some families that Dumbledore really didn't want pissed off at him amongst the first years, after all.

Harry got into a boat on his own. No-one followed him in, at first. However, a few minutes later, a small, cute Chinese girl stepped up to his boat.

"Excuse me, do you mind if I sit with you?" she asked shyly. In fact, Harry didn't mind. This was someone who he hadn't seen expressing over-the-top adulation for his brother (which was a big plus in Harry's mind for any impressionable young girl growing up with stories about the boy-who-lived), and didn't seem particularly boisterous. In fact, she seemed rather quiet and withdrawn. Like him. That was good.

Maybe he'd make a few friends here after all. If she went to the same house as him, at least – segregation was rampant among magical society, after all. Especially in Hogwarts. Why they thought that grouping children in with other children who have similar personality traits – and only children with those personality traits – whilst simultaneously discouraging involvement with children from other houses was a good idea, he didn't know. Sure, that promoted the growth of that particular trait – but the problem was that it also stagnated the growth of all of the other traits. That's probably why every adult witch or wizard he'd met was so mentally unbalanced.

Harry realised that he'd rudely ignored the girl for close to 30 seconds, and promptly apologised.

"Sorry, I zoned out for a minute there. That happens a lot. To answer your question: not at all, although may I ask for your name, please?" he smoothly said. The girl seemed taken aback slightly by his sudden change in demeanour.

"Su Li; what about you?" she responded, as she stepped into the boat. With a shout from Hagrid, the boats started moving. Mysteriously, it appeared that no-one else was going to get in a boat with them. Maybe people thought he looked intimidating. No? A boy can dream, can't he?

"I'm Harry Potter," he stated, plainly. Her eyes widened slightly.

"That must be fun," she dryly stated. The clear irony caused Harry to become the one who was taken aback, and his eyebrows rose. He liked this girl.

"His most annoying fans are our parents." Su winced.

"I feel sorry for you."

"Don't; I'm used to it. It's better this way; I'm a better person for it." Her eyebrows rose.

"I guess so," she said timidly, "we wouldn't want another Anthony Potter." Harry laughed uproariously. He really, _really _liked this girl.

They both fell quiet, simply enjoying each other's companionship for the rest of the short journey. This continued as they all disembarked and Harry and Su joined the back of the crowd, following Hagrid up to the large, wooden doors upon which he knocked loudly.

The door swung open, revealing a tall, dark-haired, strict-looking witch in emerald green robes. Her lips were pursed as she gazed over the crowd of new students, although their corners edged upwards slightly to form the ghost of a smile as her eyes passed over his brother, and surprisingly, him.

This must be the strict but fair Professor McGonagall, cited by his father (to Anthony, of course) as the person he and his gang of misfits tried to annoy most back when they were in school. He'd thought that she'd favour Anthony over him, but now he wasn't so sure.

Meh. Anthony was a shoe-in for Gryffindor anyway, and him joining his brother being something that he personally planned to avoid at any cost would probably cause McGonagall to favour the famed twin anyway.

"I'll take them from here."

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**Anyone who reviews and guesses any of the references I intentionally made (as I may have made a few about which I have no idea) in this chapter wins an honourable mention in the next.**

**You may have noticed that there are a few direct quotes from Philosopher's Stone – I'm lazy, so what?**

**Point out any mistakes and I'll promptly correct them.**

**Also, feel free to flame.**


	3. 2) What Fourth Wall?

**It's been a while.**

**Thanks to everyone who reviewed, even to the guest who takes fanfiction far too seriously. If you're looking for an uber-serious story, then I'm afraid you're in the wrong place. This will have random offhand comments and references, and may contain instances of the so-called "fourth wall" being broken.**

**Anyway, on with the show:**

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**2) Fourth Wall? What Fourth Wall? There's Only Three: Maria, Rose and Sina...**

The entrance hall of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry looked distinctly...unimpressive.

It was just a large room. With boringly bare stone walls. Harry planned to rectify this soon enough.

Anyway, the crowd of young conformists-in-training (plus some others) followed Professor McGonagall into a chamber containing another set of ostentatiously large doors, where she paused, turned around, and gave an obviously planned spiel about the house system, featuring subtle psychological tricks to begin the campaign to induce Slytherin-hate into the youngsters.

If he were to be perfectly honest, Harry would tell you that he tuned her out as soon as she said that 'your house will be like your family', because that really didn't bode well for the quality of his school life.

"I shall return when we are ready for you," said the deputy headmistress, breaking Harry from his moment of introspection. She then turned and left through a side door, leaving the pre-teens by themselves in a strange place.

Now, you might think that Anthony Potter, Ronald Weasley, Draco Malfoy or one of numerous other brash, confrontational youths present in the chamber would attempt to get in an insult or two. You might think that a confrontation is inevitable. Well, in this instance, you'd be correct.

Draco sidled up to Harry's twin, and they stared at each other, sizing each other up. They each had a crowd of people behind them, which collectively made up for around 90% of the children present.

"Malfoy," said Anthony, in a tone brimming with hate – despite the fact that the two boys barely knew each other. He also scrunched up his nose, as though he'd caught a whiff of something which smelt particularly disgusting.

"Potter," said Draco, in much the same tone – with the scrunching of the nose to match.

"Hi!" exclaimed Harry, waving his hand at him, "Sorry I didn't introduce myself properly, mister bad faith!"

Malfoy was so confused by this outburst that he attacked himself in confusion, despite it not actually being his turn. After a long few seconds, however, he recovered his composure.

However, before he could make what Harry was sure was going to be a very witty remark, McGonagall returned.

"Now, if you'll all form a line and follow me, you'll be sorted momentarily."

"That looked fun," Su whispered into Harry's ear as she took her place in the line behind him.

"Yeah, it sure was," he returned in kind.

As they entered the unnecessarily extravagant Great Hall, Harry immediately noticed that old Gandalf-of-the-Greater-Good was sitting in a throne, whilst the other teachers had regular chairs and the students sat on benches. Let the psychological warfare begin.

Damn, now even Harry was giving people hyphenated nicknames. Perhaps he was susceptible to indoctrination after all. Or perhaps the hyphens that Harry so hated were just that powerful. Harry personally thought that the latter option was more likely.

Harry noticed that his brother was getting stared at by hungry-looking teenage girls. He was sure that it must count as paedophilia for some of the older girls. Ha. There were also a couple of teenage boys staring at Anthony.

Double ha. Sadly, however, he seemed not to notice, and merely continued with his pretentious strutting.

Harry was never so glad that his appearance was so dissimilar to his brother's – he was never a fan of being stared at. Unless it was because of something he'd just said, and the person staring was doing so in shock or befuddlement. Then he found it quite amusing.

The line of first years seemed to be approaching a stool, on which there stood a hat. A stereotypical pointed wizard's hat. A very dirty stereotypical wizard's hat.

Harry wondered what it had to do with the segregation ceremony that they were about to undergo – it was obviously involved in some way, given the stares that the older students and staff were directing towards it

Now, you might think that, in my infinite laziness, I'll have just copied the Sorting Hat's original song, or maybe that I'll just not have bothered to include one at all. Well, I'm afraid that you, dear reader, have just activated my trap card.

_Look at me:_

_I'm a hat,_

_I can sing_

_How about that?_

_I can see your thoughts and desires;_

_There's no hiding from me._

_For I am infinitely powerful,_

_And no door requires a key!_

_Do not fear this frankly overpowered ability,_

_For I can only use it to fulfil my function - _

_Which is to create discord amongst you_

_By creating a crossroads, a junction._

_Look at me:_

_I'm a hat,_

_I can sing_

_How about that?_

_If I put you in Godric's house,_

_You'll join the lions of Gryffindor -_

_Where you'll learn that your place in society_

_Is to be the first to be sent to war._

_I may put you with Helga's lot,_

_The badgers of Hufflepuff -_

_Where you won't be hunted by farmers,_

_But you'll learn that life is tough._

_I could put you with Rowena's favourites;_

_You'd be with the ravens of Ravenclaw - _

_Here, you'll gain knowledge and a choice_

_To make or break the law._

_However, Salazar had a group too -_

_You could join the non-slimy snakes of Slytherin,_

_Where you'll be hated and reviled_

_And pressured to help destroy society from within._

_Look at me:_

_I'm a hat,_

_I can sing_

_How about that?_

_I wouldn't want to be in your position right now -_

_Your entire future rests upon my decision!_

_Unfortunately though, I have to put you where you 'belong',_

_By checking your personality with precision._

_So come forward, put me on, let me take a look inside -_

_Don't worry, I don't care what you look like naked,_

_For I'm a piece of cloth without a libido_

_So I have no interest in anything X-rated._

_Look at me:_

_I'm a hat,_

_I can sing_

_How about that?_

"Seriously, who writes this shit?" Harry asked dryly, "the author of this story should be given a medal for making a pointless song both informative and mildly amusing, and for actually including a chorus." The hall was so silent that, despite him speaking rather quietly, practically the whole hall could hear his comment. Or it would have been, if it were in fact possible to have levels of silence beyond simply 'silent' and 'not silent'.

"I concur," spoke up Su from beside him, an amused grin on her face. Professor McGonagall shot them both a glare.

"If you would mind your language, Mr. Potter, you might avoid getting a detention before you've even been sorted," she spoke sternly, before unrolling the scroll of parchment that she now randomly held in her hands.

Many people were now confusedly staring between Harry and Anthony, the latter of whom was glaring at the former for stealing the spotlight. Harry smirked at Anthony when he noticed this.

Harry's comment had also had the effect of calming the not-so-large group of new students, who had mostly turned distinctly pale upon hearing the hat's words. Maybe laughter actually IS the best medicine! Maybe laughter stimulated a part of the brain to release pheromones into the body, which have a side effect of boosting the activity of white blood cells...

Harry suddenly realised that his thoughts had gotten off-topic, and the segregation ceremony was now well under way. Maybe he should stop channelling the author. Or maybe not.

"Finnegan, Seamus!" called out Professor McGonagall, and Harry recognised the boy that stepped forward as the ginger kid who came on the train. He snorted. People looked at him weirdly. Harry sighed in exasperation – why did he always get those looks? Oh yeah, he's weird. Cool.

"GRYFFINDOR!" shouted the hat, after a minute or two of deliberation. Seamus looked relieved, probably because he apparently enjoys being ordered around by a boy his own age, and Anthony was certain to go there. Why was Harry so certain? He was sure that Dumbledore would influence the hat to sort the boy-who-lived in to the 'good' house, even if only to avoid getting the influential Potter parents pissed at him.

Also, Harry didn't think that his brother fit into any of the houses, so would probably get to choose.

Harry watched as the second of a pair of boys who appeared to be mentally lacking were sorted into Slytherin, but appearances can be, and often are, deceiving. Take house-elves, for example. Many of them look as frail as a baby, but they're quite frankly one of the most overpowered magical creatures in existence (or beings, whichever the correct term is nowadays); it's just too bad they're generally under-appreciated by uptight purebloods, who tend to be the only people to own them.

It would also be the mark of a Slytherin to not let anyone know their true intelligence. Honestly, Harry thought at this point that it could go either way – they could be hiding their intelligence, or they could actually be as slow as they look. VERY slow. Both physically and mentally.

"Li, Su!" called McGonagall. She looked rather worried as she began to step forward.

"Don't worry," Harry reassured her, "I'm not as impressionable or susceptible to the segregation system as most kids our age. In other words, I'll still be your friend even if one of us is a lion and the other is a snake – however unlikely that may be."

"Thanks," she whispered, gracing him with a small smile. So, Harry had guessed correctly then, that based on her apparent introversion and shyness (and lack of other friends), she would be worried about their friendship breaking apart due to them being sorted differently. Now that Harry actually had a friend (who he happened to quite like), he found himself quite unwilling to let that go. Judging by her reaction, though, both of their worries were quite unfounded.

"RAVENCLAW!" shouted the hat, and Su joined her new housemates with a relaxed smile. She seemed like a person who doesn't enjoy confrontation, so it made sense for her to be glad to be sorted into the most neutral house. Supposedly most neutral, anyway. There were probably still a few elitists, though. People never could take others thinking differently to them.

The segregation ceremony continued. Harry didn't really pay attention, until he saw Draco Malfoy get sorted into Slytherin so quickly that the hat barely had time to touch his hair. It was probably wary of being covered in gel.

The two boys from earlier (who's Slytherin characteristics were under question) instantly began ingratiating themselves to him with sycophantic behaviour. Their complete lack of subtlety (and the fact that they were trying to cosy up to an idiot) made Harry instantly lose all belief in the two boys possibly having a sense of expediency or a strong grasp on Machiavellian tactics, in spite of the Malfoy family fortune. Harry also thought that the author should stop being so sesquipedalian, and get on with the damn story.

"Potter, Anthony!" called McGonagall, and the entire hall went silent. The redhead in question swaggered up to the hat in an attempt to look impressive, but in actual fact just looking constipated.

"GRYFFINDOR!" shouted the hat, making a decision almost as quickly as it had with Malfoy. How anticlimactic.

The table full of obvious cannon fodder cheered as loud as they could within the limits of the human voice for the future lead sacrifice. Harry hoped his hearing wasn't permanently damaged from it.

"Potter, Harry!"

Cue the muttering of people who hadn't realised that the the boy-who-lived had any siblings, let alone a twin brother. 99% of the people in the hall muttering was actually rather loud.

"Ah, the more mysterious twin," commented a voice in Harry's ear.

"I try. Mind telling me how you can access students minds, or are you bound to secrecy?" If the hat could have, Harry was sure it would have smirked.

"Not many people think to ask that Mr. Potter – in fact, you're the first in many years. Whilst I don't have the time to get in to specifics, I'm sure you can find information on legilimency in the school's library. In the restricted section, of course."

"And what would it take to bypass said restrictions?"

"Another good question, Mr. Potter. However, but I'm afraid that you'll have to figure that out for yourself."

"Nah, seems too ambiguous. I'll probably just go to Knockturn Alley or raid my family library over the Christmas holidays." Come to think of it, Harry was sure that he'd come across legilimency in one of the darker books of their library. Harry was surprised that his parents hadn't censored their library, what with boy wonder growing up with easy access to it. He supposed that they didn't bother, given James's inherent laziness and the fact that Anthony was not at all interested in reading. "Where are you gonna sort me anyway?"

"Honestly, you'd be a good fit for Slytherin, Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff. You'd just get annoyed by the narrow-mindedness which pollutes Gryffindor nowadays – how the mighty have fallen!"

"Can the same not be said for Slytherin?" Harry asked curiously – it seemed to be the case in his experience, which was admittedly limited.

"You'd be surprised. There's a healthy amount of neutral purebloods and half-bloods in Slytherin who pretend to be dark in order to survive living in Voldemort's recruiting ground/hunting ground."

"Huh. So how does this work then, do I get to choose?"

"You wouldn't normally, but I like you – so go ahead."

"That's nice to know," stated Harry tonelessly, "which is the overall best fit?"

"Going by your apparent curiosity, Ravenclaw. However, your earlier insightful questions display a certain type of intelligence which would lead you to thrive in Slytherin."

"Hmm. I'm tempted to go for Slytherin, just to piss off my family." Again with the hat's invisible smirk.

"That would indeed be quite entertaining. Sadly, this does not at all influence my decision, since I'd be locked up in greybeard's office when the shit hit the fan, so to speak."

"Cool nickname," was Harry's response.

"I know."

"My Mewtwo is called Assclown though. I win."

"You do realise that game doesn't come out for another five years?"

"Two words, Mr. Hat: alternate universe."

"Ah."

"Anyway, I've made my decision. I think I'll go for..."

**YAY; CLIFFHANGER!...**

**...Uh, no.**

"...Ravenclaw."

"RAVENCLAW!" shouted the hat, and Harry went to sit by Su, who made a space for him at the table.

Some insignificant minor characters were then sorted into various houses, and the boy-who-lived's favourite toy was sorted into Gryffindor alongside him. It was then that Harry noticed the distinct lack of darker-skinned kids present in the hall, and wondered if wizards were even more racist than he previously thought.

Dumbledore then stood up, which was the author's cue to end the chapter.

* * *

**Thanks for reading; I hope you enjoyed this chapter. There may be a few grammatical errors (or random switching of tense), purely because I was ridiculously tired when I wrote this - and I don't have a beta. Not that I really want one. Just tell me if you notice any major errors, and I'll try to fix them.**

**If you wish to flame me, go ahead. Distillation won't happen by itself, y'know. No, that wasn't meant to be an accurate analogy for what will happen if someone flames this story, so please don't expect that it will actually have an effect.**

**Next chapter will feature Dumbledore spurting some random insults, him not being taken at all seriously, and many people gorging themselves on slave-baked food. Also an introduction to the workings of the coolest house.**

**I end my turn. Go.**


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